To stop smoking is harder than I ever imagined. I’m doing it without any aids so I’m going totally cold turkey! Apparently patches and NRT don’t work very well either but after Smoke Swap is finished in exactly eleven days time Perry said he would get me a hypnotherapist if I wanted or need one. I’ve heard about Allen Carr’s book ‘The Easy way to Stop Smoking’, who hasn’t? I think I need to buy myself a copy pretty damn quick. So I am trying to stop smoking, I really am.Trying to Stop

It doesn’t help that my boyfriend constantly smokes around me and even taunts me with cigarettes. The only way I can see myself getting through the two weeks experiment successfully is to avoid my smoking friends and all smoky situations, so it’s no China Whites and clubbing for me this week.

I think anybody trying to stop smoking after the smoking ban comes in will find it easy as it wont be in your face so much anymore. When I’m not thinking about cigarettes I’m okay but as soon as I see a cigarette, I want so much to smoke one or at least have a quick puff.

Day 5 – Perry

Mugello Italy

Listening to: Plush – Stone Temple Pilots

I was doing really well today and was thinking I’ve got this smoking lark cracked. Then I was sick as a dog!

the day got off to a good start. I got up early and after breakfast, while waiting for my interpreter I lit my first cigarette of the day. I drive from my hotel to the Moto GP at Mugello and parked up on site. I spark up my second cigarette of the day as I walk the short distance through the pit area to meet the crew and the rest of the team.

All the local promotional models start to arrive and I greet them and then while I’m waiting for them to change I’m already on my third cigarette of the day and it’s only 9.30am. I brief the team and fire them up, today is race day and it’s is going to be very busy and also very hot.

The rest of the day is a bit of a blur until the race starts in the mid afternoon. Then we get a chance to relax, regroup, drink lots of water and smoke a few cigarettes.

An hour or so after the race finishes we start to wind the operation down and while the crowds bay to get out of the park we start to dine, have a couple of beers and relax. One of our drivers who also cooks a great BBQ presents us all with a feast. I didn’t realise how hungry I was until this point. The beautiful Italian food hits the spot, as we sit in the sun and eat Al fresco. It’s a warm satisfy feeling to know you’ve worked hard with a great team and then enjoy each others company over good food, drink and banter.

When I finish I spark up a cigarette, I’ve got a bit of catching up to do. I was so busy today I never got the time to shoe-horn a fag break into the day. As I’m filming my diary cam daily for Smoke Swap I remember there was a Marlboro stand nearby. One of the team there gave me a branded lighter a couple of days ago. I thought it maybe a good idea to do a piece to camera in front of the famous red and white stand or maybe with the Marlboro Girls. One of the crew man the camera and I spark up another cigarette and I deliver my thoughts to camera.

All of a sudden I’m feeling red hot, break out into a sweat and I can feel my legs are about to buckle beneath me. I find somewhere to sit until the nauseous feeling pass. Thirty seconds later I run behind one of the trucks and the contents of my stomach come flying out. The cameraman isn’t far behind me and gets a shot of my pavement pizza.

I leave it a few hour before I smoke again. It was such a perfect day but spoilt by one to many cigarettes. The over-riding memory of the Mugello Moto GP for me is going to puking behind a truck. I should stop smoking now and forget Smoke Swap. It’s probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.

I find myself staring at people smoking cigarettes, I can’t help myself. I want to take a drag of a cigarette and inhale the succulent smoke deep down into my lungs. It’s really hard when all around me everyone is smoking, especially after a glass of wine or two or a meal.

Sleeping is proving to be a problem for me. I feel bloated and wake up in the middle of the night gasping for a cigarette. I’m supposed to be saving money but I’m spending more now then ever. Not on cigarettes but biscuits and snacks.

I pop down to the shops late at night and stock up on loads of biscuits, chocolate and crisps and by the morning they’ve all gone.

I may well be going to live forever by stopping smoking but I’m going to be one big bloater if I do! Tell me it’s going to get better! I’ll have to start going down the gym, at least I won’t be out of breath walking up the stairs before I get there.

Above - Classic tobacco company marketing, associating their product with attractive girls and fun times. You have a photograph taken with the models on your phone or camera and then you send it on to all your friends, subliminally spreading their message and building brand awareness. They don’t even pay you to do it. Ever felt like a mug?

Another busy day in Mugello at the Italian Moto GP but I find myself lying so I can go off and have a cigarette. I inform my colleagues I’m ‘just off to the toilet’. This is making me feel guilty. It’s classic addict action. Now I’m not saying I’m an addict within four days but I’m taking on certain traits classic to an alcoholic or drug addict. I’m lying to myself and others to allow me the time to get my little fix conscience free. The only trouble is I don’t like lying.

So I walk up the hill in the direction of the toilets and spark up on the way. Then when I reach the place where all the big guys hang out and I’m facing the urinal I’m suddenly at a loss as what to do with my cigarette. I can’t ask anyone to hold it for me. I’m in Italy and my translation could be misunderstood as something completely different besides, we men never talk in public toilets, it’s an unspoken rule! There is no ledge to leave it on either.

So the cigarette hangs out of the corner of mouth but within seconds I’ve got a plume of smoke in my eye. It stings and burns and starts to water. I yank the thing from my lips and hold it in my right hand along with my penis. Now I can’t piss. I’m shit scared I’m going to burn and disfigure my old chap. Some-one said a few days ago that I smoke like a girl. Well next time I have a cigarette and a piss that is exactly what I’ll do. I’ll sit down and piss and smoke. I hope the bastard who goes in before me remembers to put the seat down.

Day 3 Kate Piper
I don’t know what to do with my hands. I’m so used to holding a cigarette. I thinking about, thinking about smoking a cigarette all the time. It’s becoming an obsession for me.

Before this experiment I would smoke on autopilot, but now I can’t, it occupies all my thoughts. Cigarettes were a crux or a comfort blanket for me and I’m now determined to be stronger without them, I don’t need cigarettes. I DON’T NEED CIGARETTES!

I think my skin is going through some kinda detox or something. I feel spotty, maybe all the nasties in cigarettes are being expelled from my body. Hope is doesn’t last forever because having a spotty face definitely isn’t what I need right now. I’m stressed enough and not sleeping well. It’s going to take a while for me to adjust to be a non-smoker or an ex-smoker but I’m hanging in there, but the temptation is still there.

Perry’s in Italy this week the lucky boy! I wonder how he’s getting on smoking my fags…

Today started of well. I’ve come up with a strategy to ensure I get my ten a day in. After every meal and every break I’ll have a cigarette. That should take me above half way. The other three or four cigarettes I can smoke at the end of the day to reward myself. If I’m going to complete this experiment successfully I will have to start thinking like a smoker and plan my waking hours around smoking. Of course if I was a smoker I would do this without thinking as it would be habitual.

I had breakfast early and had a cigarette immediately afterwards. I head back to my room and brush my teeth, pick up my bag and head to the garage to take the car out. On the short walk from the hotel to the garage I spark up my second cigarette of the day. I love the smell of four thousand burning carcinogenic substances in the morning. Not!

I get on site and some of the crew notice I’ve started smoking. I explain what and why I’m doing it. Some of them look at me with the look of ‘You stupid southern fuckin’ idiot’ on their faces (I inform them that I was actually born in the Midlands) while others are more than happy to offer me a cigarette, coach me on cool ways to smoke, teach me tricks with a lighter or tell me anecdotes about the three strike rule.

The Three Strike Rule

The three strike rule first appeared during the war. I’m not sure which war but I would assume it was World War I. Soldiers would congregate together and share tall tales about girls, nylons and chocolate. It’s blackout and a nazi sniper could be almost anywhere. A soldier pulls out a pack of ‘Luckies’ he won of an American GI in a game of cards and offers them around his comrades in arms. Soldier #1 strikes a light and because he’s British a polite offers soldier #2 a light first. The sniper sees the flicker of a flame and takes aim. Soldier #1 offers soldier #3 a light. The sniper steadies the shot and slowly sqeezes the trigger. Soldier #1 then lights his own cigarette and promptly hits the dirt as the sniper offloads a round in to his forehead. Back then no-one knew cigarettes could kill, but they were learning fast, hence the three strike rule.

Cigarettes kill more people than all the world wars combined. One person every five minutes dies from a smoking related disease.

A collegue came up to me backstage ‘I noticed you’re smoking, so can I blag a cigarette of you?’ ‘Yeah no problem’ I say offering him a B&H. ‘Oh, you’re alright, I’ll ask someone else for one’ he said‘ They taste like shit!’ Now I’m no connesier but they all taste like shit to me! A smokers’ sense of taste is seriously eroded because of their habit but it is comical how they debate the taste of one cigarette over another. Of course they are fooling themselves. And so started a debate about the various merits of one cigarette brand over another. It amazes me how passionate people can be about their cigarettes. How emotionally connected they are to their cigarettes. They identify themselves and others by the brand they smoke. An attack on their brand of cigarette is a personal attack on themselves or their Mothers such is the close relationship fostered between man and cigarette. Marlboro is the second biggest brand in the world (Pampers is the biggest apparently, not Coca-Cola as everyone presumes). So with over seventy years of advertising, brand positioning and marketing behind it most of the messages you take from that little box of twenty have been conveyed to you so many times you don’t even question them.

The Nazis had a very effective propaganda campaign in the 1930 and 40’s – take a simple message and repeat it many times. Eventually you don’t question it, you take it as gospel. This is exactly the same when it comes to building a brand such Marlboro Lights. I always say question everything. Nothing happens by accident and if there is money to be made prepare to ask many questions.

Cigarettes are broken down into two categories:

1) Virginia tobacco cigarettes

2) Blended tobacco cigarettes

If most cigarettes fall in to the two categories, why do smokers champion one brand over another? Well that’s down to marketing. I remember when I was at Philip Morris being told that Marlboro Lights sold more at the weekends than in the week. The reason behind this statement? People who would normally smoke a brand at of cheaper cost price and perception and would buy a packet of Marlboro Lights on a Friday night before heading out on the town. Along with their designer clothes, their mobile phone, lighter and their last fashion accessory a packet of cigarettes.

Of course we at Philip Morris spent a great deal of time and money positioning our brand in all the best and most aspirational bars, club, and parties in every city. The kind of clubs ordinary people can’t get passed the red rope. We sponsored exclusive and glamorous sports such as F1 were the average man in the street can’t afford a ticket. And sold the product exclusively at all the music festivals were all the great and the good of the rock n roll world would be. The people living the life we could only dream about.

So by buying a packet of Marlboro Lights at the weekend and putting them on the table with my bottle of over priced Czeck beer I’m saying to my friends and peers ‘Hey look at me! I belong to this elite club, I’m sophisticated, I’m cultured, I’m a modern man of the world. I’m in Monte Carlo and rubbing shoulders with Kate Moss and I can afford to buy this brand so look out ladies here I come!

The reality is I’m in a chain bar in Lincoln, my shirt is a fake designer label knock-off from the market, no-one has called me on my mobile all night and I’m topping my trendy bottle of beer up from a hip flask because I can’t afford to spend £6.00 on a pint of lager. I know this but the perception to others is different. Well until I get pissed and drop a kebab down the front of my shirt while walking home zig-zag style down the street it is.

Ahhhhh! The worst day of my life! I couldn’t sleep all night as was dying for a cancer stick, so I slept in and didn’t move my car from the meter and got a £80 fine! All this quitting smoking saves money blah, blah, blah!, would of been cheaper to buy ten fags and a lighter and slept well, woke up and moved my smokey motor!

Anyway, enough of this bitching! I went to the gym today thought I felt fitter, but no way can that be possible after 2 days. I’m just trying to find the pros in this experiment but yet to find any at all!

Oh my, only day two, I nearly broke tonight when I went to a Thai restaurant and sat in the smoking section and had a whole bottle a wine, ex smokers hell! I was so close to caving in so early on, I started to tell myself if I have a few puffs on someone else’s cigarette it won’t count because I’m not technically having a cigarette myself, it’s someone else’s. Yes I hear you cry, don’t worry I didn’t actually do it, Instead I had a crap night thinking about the joy of smoking all night!

I went to work at midnight and I was experiencing the worst case of depression since my budgie Colin died! Its unexplainable I feel really down, oh and a right chubster, I’m just hankering for when the happy lights and sparkle happen. Quitting smoking is supposed to be a breath of fresh air, well I say roll on the next few days cause all I see right now is a black hole!

I’m rudely woken by my alarm. It’s 3.30am already. No time for a cigarette, it just feels wrong to light up at this ungodly hour. I brush my teeth again but I can still taste the foul remnants of last night’s cigarettes.

I put the kettle on and take it off again. It’s not suitable attire to travel in, don’t you know!

I have a cup of tea, finish packing and jump in a cab at 4.15am. I head through empty City streets toward Liverpool Street Station. I can’t smoke in the taxi and I can’t smoke in the station. I meet my interpreter and board a train to Stanstead Airport. I can’t smoke on the train. We arrive at the airport, meet up with our presenter and almost immediately board the flight to Italy. Now I’m getting worried. When will I get the time and opportunity to have a cigarette or ten?

We arrive in Bologne some two and a half hours later and pick up the hire car. My two colleagues request I don’t smoke when they are in the car. I, of course oblige, I would make the same request if I was in their seats.

We decide to take the non motorway route from Bologne to Florence toward the Moto GP or rather our satellite navigation system sends us down some back streets. We eventually get out of the city and into the countryside. The road twists and turns up and down some of the most amazing countryside anywhere in Europe. We admire epic vistas and sleepy villages rarely getting out of second gear such as the roads will allow. I breathe in, filling my lungs with fresh mountain air but all the time I’m thinking I’ve got to have a cigarette soon. It seems like the countryside is taunting me with its pure fresh air. I drive on and Tuscanny is also in on the conspiracy.

Four hours later I arrive at my hotel. I grab a bite to eat and promptly fall asleep.

My telephone rings and rudely awakens me from my slumber. It’s 8pm and I still haven’t had a cigarette today. My room is a non-smoking room so after polishing off the remains of room service I head to the bar only to find it’s non-smoking too. So here I am, desperately wanting a cigarette to continue the Smoke Swap. I’ve had a very feeble start to this experiment but it’s not for trying. Whatever way I look at it, this is going to be hard. As I write this I notice it’s 10.10pm and I haven’t had the opportunity to smoke. How do people with a ten or twenty a day habit find time for it. I’ll be f**ked if I know. I guess you have to make time for smoking, plan your day around smoking. So instead of the illusion of freedom associated with smoking, you end up a slave to the cigarette. I guess I’ll have to head outside and spark up before the crew arrive for a night-cap.

I light up a B&H. I feel like a bit of a leper or pariah outside on my own. Hotel guests throw a cautionary glance in my direction. No I’m not going to nick your car. I am having a fag!

I head back in to the hotel lobby and take in with me a powerful headache, I feel lethargic and all I want to do is sleep. The taste in my mouth is unsavoury to say the least. I don’t know how I’m going to get threw this. I love life but right now it sucks big time.

So the first day of smoke swap! Easier than I thought, perhaps because I got to witness Perry suffer so much it made me forgot my own pangs of longing for a ciggy!

Although I feel annoyed already as I ate way to much, considerably more than normal just to keep my mouth busy and to stop my hand creeping into that cigarette box. Another thing that infuriated me was that I had to give Smoky Joe (Perry) my fags and wait for it… their were still 8 in the packet! Ah hello, it was a ten pack!

I also had to witness Mikey, my boyfriend smoking right in front of me! Being the individual that he is, he is not in any way shape or form about to bury his habit, so I must suffer whilst witnessing him inhale that smooth, succulent silver smoke! Katie

‘Ciao bella’ I kiss Katie goodbye and wonder off in the direction of the station to catch my train home.

‘Take care of yourself. I’m worried about you’ she says. I walk off into the crowds of obscurity. You’re worried about me! I’m worried about me!

Rewind the clock five hours earlier and I meet Katie in a coffee shop in Old Street and head off for a spot of lunch. Thai if you want to know.

After lunch I give Katie a crash course in camera operation and we talk about starting and stopping smoking. Today the mad idea turns to reality.

We meet the crew and head in the direction of a newsagent to buy cigarettes. As this is Smoke Swap and I don’t want to burn my own money I suggest to Kate that she has to hand over her money that she would spend on cigarettes over the next two weeks. We calculate it’s going to cost about forty UK Pounds Sterling and as we don’t carry that kind of cash on us we have to leg it to a cash machine.

We head back to the newsagents and like two kids in a sweet shop we purchase 14 packs of ten cigarettes, one for each day. This is like some perverse pick ‘n’ mix.

This little symbolic act costs Katie £43.00. As she usually buys a pack as she needs them she realises how much she wastes on this habit of hers.

Armed with a couple of handfuls of cigarettes we head towards the studio were we are going to start/stop Smoke Swap for real – not long now.

The cameras are rolling. I look across at Katie and she looks relaxed and at home where I feel like a complete fraud. I’m not comfortable in front of the cameras and feel naked and exposed. There is no-where to run and no-where to hide. Soon I’ll disappear into a puff of smoke. Oh shit, what have I gone and got myself into…

We exchange stories about cigarettes in our lives up to this point.

I can’t put it off any longer. I hear myself using a thousand words were one would suffice but it’s no good, I can’t put it off anymore. It’s time to loose my Virginia tobacco.

Katie and I choose our branded drug of choice. It is easy really. Kate used to smoke them and I used to market them… Marlboro Lights (No mention of ‘Light’ on the pack since 2002, Kate notices this for the first time. In the industry we renamed them Marlboro Gold). She takes her last cigarette and places it between her lips. She presents the flame from the newly filled Zippo lighter to the cigarette and slowly inhales the smoke for the last time. She then reluctantly hands it over to me.

I’m such a dork, I’m not even sure how to hold it but suck on it all the same. The smoke gets in my eye. I inhale and exhale. To my surprise it goes down relatively well but it’s not natural to me to take the smoke down and I really have to concentrate during the whole process.

I repeat the action again but this time I start to cough and my heart starts to race. On the third pull now and I’m feeling light headed and now my legs feel as though they could buckle. Thank f**k I’m sitting down.

I’m talking bollocks, ten to the dozen with a heady mix of adrenalin, nicotine and fear.

There it is, I’ve done it. I’ve smoked my first cigarette. It wasn’t behind the bike sheds. I didn’t have to buy a packet of mints to disguise my odious breath from my parents and I don’t have to do this again.

Fifteen minutes later we are posing for still photographs so I light my second cigarette. I sit by the window nonchalantly flicking my ash out of the window.

The reality of it all is I’m holding on for dear life as I don’t want to faint and fall out the third floor window to the ground below. We all know smoking kills but today isn’t a good day to die. This isn’t good. It isn’t good at all.

I’m burning up. My face drains of colour then I break out into a sweat. I dare not move, my legs have turned to jelly and I’ve shut up talking. The dialogue now is all in my head. ‘Don’t be sick, don’t be sick’ I repeat over and over again internally. You don’t have to be in the medical profession to see I look what is commonly described as ‘F**ked!’

What is this? I’m supposed to be free, a rebel without a cause, a real man. That’s what seventy years of marketing has sold me but here I am, sick and quite on a sofa feeling like a weak and worthless individual. I’m embarrassed and distressed. I sit quite still but for the party in my guts. This is one party I don’t want spilling out onto the streets of East London. I remain in the same position for over an hour occasionally taking small tastes of cold water.

Smoke Swap is going to be tough. I’ve really underestimated what I was taking on. I know the body is very adaptable but I question myself why would I want to subject it to this misery every day. I must be f**king mad.

So I find my way back home and to bed. I can’t face another cigarette today. I’m up at 3:30am to catch a plane to Italy. Hopefully the Tuscanny sun will shine on me and tomorrow will be a better day.